Disclaimer: Devil May Cry is the property of Capcom. The plot and the original characters, mine.
Argh, I want to say sorry for those of you who waited for this chapter :( It's hard to keep constantly writing when I get distracted. Blarg, some explanations are at the end, for now, on with the story.
By Cloud Ishida
Neither devil hunter mouthed a word on the way home. One was about to implode with questions drilling into her brain while the other drowned himself in introspection.
The blood soaked through the off-white gauze wrapped around his tattered hand. Back at the diner, the rescued waitress eagerly helped clean the wound with the diner's dust-covered first aid kit while Trish, armed with tweezers, picked out the slivers of precious stone lodged into the patient's hand. He held the broken amulet tightly around his other hand, but he didn't seem to notice his cracked bones glistening under the dim light, nor the stings of muscle hanging by strands where the red spear penetrated.
His heart was too saddened by another wound; one more valuable than the body's well being.
The hum of the red sign over their shack of a building was still holding its steady melody while small visiting insects were attracted to the dark red illumination. Dante clutched the entrance's handle and abruptly twisted it letting the creaks echo through the street. Trish followed behind. Her eyes fell on the handle, now painted in blood. The gauze wasn't doing its job very well.
He threw his long, crimson jacket to his chair behind his desk while Trish manually hung it on hers. He hadn't spoken a word since the fight and it was beginning to gnaw at her. All she saw was Dante lying on the ground while clutching his head in what looked like extreme pain, that black knight on the verge of stabbing him in the face, and the notion that the appearance of that demon seemed all to familiar with another she knew. Nero Angelo decorated himself with similar magnificent armour much like the black knight, and the cape bearing an uncanny resemblance too. She knew Dante had a similar notion, along with the fact that his most treasured heirloom was crushed under his ha--
"Shit."
Trish woke from her thoughts, "What?" It wasn't exactly the word she expected to first leave her partner's mouth.
Dante stood with his back against her, his eyes piercing the wall that held his array of weaponry covering his personally handpicked posters. The grenade launcher, shotgun, needle gun and Nightmare-β slumbered in their respective shelves. On the wall, two swords and a pair of gloves hung like ornaments. Alastor and Ifrit's engraved eyes were dulled to a scaly black under the room's lights, as if they were hibernating after their previous, vicious battle. But none of these weapons were the object of their master's discontent.
His eyes were locked on the sword above Alastor. Instead of Sparda resting on the altar, Force Edge was in its place.
Trish walked up beside him, following her partner's green eyes to the weapon that wasn't suppose to be there. "But...how?"
He spat to the side, obviously displeased with the currently situation. "Force Edge changed into Sparda when the amulet was whole... Since it's now nothing but a worthless rock the damn sword probably couldn't hold its shape." His bandaged hand curled into a fist relaying a striking jolt of pain down his arm. No whimper left his mouth to relieve the pain. "......"
Not just his mother's amulet, even his father's sword faded away from him. What am I suppose to say?... The question ran through Trish's head. "Maybe we can fix the amulet--"
"Fix it with what?! You can't just fix a two thousand year old rock with glue and tape you know!!" What kind of stupid question is that? Of all the things to-- Without realizing that his hand was already raised in the air, Dante hurled the broken amulet at Force Edge and split into two halves once again. Upon impact, not a crack, but a tiny scream echoed from the ancient blade.
That silent shriek... His eyes widened at that familiar sound again, the one that rippled through his head earlier that night. Trish just stood, stunned by what just occurred. Blue eyes darted back and forth from the blade to the silver-haired man with his own bewildered expression. His mouth was hanging and his eyes blinked just once. He just threw his mother and brother's gift as if it was a piece of trash... But what's more, the look on his face... She never saw that look of fear on his face before.
"Did you hear that?..." He whispered, almost too quietly.
"Of course! You threw it hard enough to rattle the whole building." Trish turned her attention back to Force Edge, now with a faint scar on its flat side of the blade where the amulet made contact.
"What?...No, I mean a voice..." He rubbed his neck with his non-bandaged hand, hoping that he wasn't hearing things.
Staying silent for a moment, Trish waited to catch a sound of any kind. But the room was unnaturally quiet, as if the night itself was afraid to blow a soft breeze in fear of waking a horrible monster. "No I didn't..." Now Trish was getting really worried, "Are you alright Dante?" Maybe the thought of the only memento of his mother broken was weighing too much on his mind.
Dante scrutinized from the broken amulet to Trish. Didn't hear anything? But he could have sworn that... Or...or, maybe he didn't hear... But... "...nevermind." No, it was nothing. Nothing at all. So... why were his instincts telling him otherwise? He needed to clear his head of that amulet and the knight who defeated him all too easily. "I need a shower." Taking one last look at the sword and necklace, Dante headed to the corridor in smooth strides.
Trish watched him until he disappeared through the corridor, until the sounds of footsteps climbing stairs and a door screeching open echoed through the office. A heavy sigh of disappointment escaped her lungs. The night was going so well; he talked more about his past than she ever expected and this had to happen. It was made worse by the fact Dante didn't care to explain what happened, and now he's hearing things?
As her fingers entangled the shattered amulets, dull grooves alerted her to an engraving on their backs. She flipped both amulets over to inspect them. On one amulet read, "To my beloved children" while on the other, "Virgil and Dante". The hole where the spear had penetrated separated the two children's names like an omen told too late. She remembered the day Dante read his and Virgil's half as a whole. A bittersweet smile laced his lips as he whispered the message. Manoeuvring around the mounds of waste cluttered on the floor, Trish took it to her desk and placed both amulets inside her main drawer. If she knew her partner well, he wouldn't want to see it in its state again anytime soon.
All that emotion and passion over someone dead for twenty years, it sounded like a foolish sentiment to the inexperienced. Foolish, yet profound, Trish thought. There were times when she wondered about her day to feel the same fire. Would she ever have someone she would love and cherish the way Dante dotes over his family? After all, she didn't truly have a family to begin with. Mundus created her from the bones and flesh of fallen devils and demons with the skin of a human being. The only one she has a real attachment to was Dante, or at least it seemed that way.
A devil living in the human world was not an easy task. They have the gift of long life, but humble needs have a way of sucking the joys of longevity. It's a wonder, she thought, how the Legendary Dark Knight Sparda lived so long in the world of light for two thousand years, at least before meeting the woman he married. Could she survive that long in a world that despises darkness with such vehemoth? Did Sparda experience the have the same apprehension? So many questions with no answer to a single one.
But then, she had answers available in her hands, at least in the form of a book. "Don't you dare think about reading it Trish," she scolded herself. It wasn't just Sparda's, but Dante's diary too, and reading it would be a breach of trust. But curiosity was getting the best of her again.
Trish closed her drorer, and headed upstairs where sound of the shower echoed the room. Trish headed for her bed, and looked over at the couch. Call it chivalry or manners, but Dante decided Trish would get the bed, and him, the couch. And it was easy to see who had which. Dante's clothes sprawled on the couch while Trish's sheets were absent of even a single wrinkle.
Then her eyes wandered to the bookshelf. Biting her lip, she headed towards the shelves and ran her fingers down the line of books to the La Divinia Commedia. Gingerly, she took it out and reached behind it to retrieve the diary from the darkness. By instinct, Trish turned to the bathroom door to make sure she wasn't being watched, then headed for her bed.
Already her fingers searched for pages on Sparda's writings. It was hard to find the transition of life she wanted to understand in the entries; all of Sparda's writings were dated according to the Underworld years. Deciding to forget about the dates, Trish stopped at a random page.
2nd Moon (Copper), 74 401Yr, ADA
Two months after arriving to Italy from Japan, I found myself amazed by the little things. Festivals everyday, and the most aromatic cuisine that has even absorbed me to start cooking. I can't think of any other place to call home. The people here have accepted me with open arms, though I do wonder, if they saw my true form and sins, would fear cloud their eyes and hearts... Pessimism seems to be my specialty.
An unexpected discovery today while attending a violin concerto. Of all the pieces of music, I never expected Mundus' personally composed piece to be preformed, while the audience gasped at its demonic yet exquisite melody. "Il trillo del Diavolo" composed by a human named Tartini. An appropriate title indeed. Mundus may have been insane with power but he did have a taste, and talent, for music.
Trish stopped halfway and turned to another page. The amount of trivial details Sparda wrote made him sounds like a child giggling in delight in a giant candy store. He sounded generally happy, but she didn't want comments on the arts and literature, she wanted to know how he survived in the human world. Skipping ahead and skimming through the pages while hiding the diary behind the covers of the Commedia text, she came upon a name she heard of before...
13th Moon (Silver), 74 425Yr, ADA
I felt the Hell's Gate at the Pantheon opened for a moment... How the humans have managed to build a building able to hold a perfect magic circle is remarkable... and troublesome at the same time. It was a small disturbance, but big enough for one demon...or a devil, to pass through... An uneasy premonition. I fear it may be my sins coming back to haunt me.
I have much to worry if Abigor has found his way here...
Trish raised an eyebrow. Abigor? She overheard Mundus bellow that name once before. Could it be the same person? Not that it mattered; she could care less about that now that she's free from the dark emperor's control. Getting impatient with the "small talk" writings, she flipped ahead twenty years later to a page covered with blotches of brown stains and the handwriting expressing chaos. Instead of the refined and articulate letters, slurred and messy writings were scribbled in fury.
13moon gold
Why did i even both with these pathetic humans.... i thought i saved a world of light and hope but all i see is their pointless wars and hate. russia italy germany america...all these so-called great countries racing to kill each other. everyday i hunt more and more demons yet... am i killing the right ones? what if the devils aren't the evil plaguing this world...but these wretched humans-- maybe i shouldn't be here at all... those i've thought as dear friends have left me. could it be mundus was right...that humanity is doomed to destruction so why bother saving it at all?...
Wretched humans? Trish didn't expect this kind of talk from a knight of legend who supposedly took pity on humanity. The despair and loathing etched onto the paper had an aura of resentment. All signs from this entry pointed to the idea of Sparda living to the point of regretting to save an entire species. She furled her eyebrows, contemplating the thought. If someone as great as Sparda could fall, then she could fall all too easily.
Her blue eyes trailed from the book to the single window of the bedroom. Unexpectedly, her thoughts turned to her partner. Dante seemed to be closed to the world, isolated and alone. Other than work, he was mostly anti-social... not that that seemed impossible to fathom. Maybe, she thought, maybe it's the curse all demons and devils must endure to live in the Upperworld...
"I thought you'd be dead asleep by now." Steam emptied into the bedroom from the bathroom with Dante standing in the doorway. His fully healed hand mopped his hair with a small towel while his other hand held onto a larger one wrapped around his waist. The moisture left by the contact of steam and skin latched onto his body, helping to define his perfected physique.
"Thought I'd catch up on some literature." Her voice was steady and calm, raising the Divine Comedy to show Dante while hiding the diary behind it. If she was nervous, she didn't show it.
Dante recognized the cover instantly, "I never did finish reading that." Which was a shame, he thought. He always did wanted to know what was so great about the story to be named after the protagonist. Throwing the smaller towel over to his couch, he reached for his red pants and went back inside the bathroom. Moments later he came out again, half dressed this time. His eyes wandered to the clock and around the bedroom. It was nearly impossible to see the floor under the junk on his half of the room while Trish's side looked as if it was brand new.
Trish caught the look of irritation on Dante's face. "Forget about cleaning. It's late and you should rest after all that's happened tonight."
He grunted in response as he waded through the debris and sat down on the sofa, pulling a folded blanket towards himself. His head landed on the pillow resting at the end nearest to the bed and brushed his damp hair away from his eyes with lazy hands. "I'll be dreaming how to dismember that devil freak to have a good night's sleep."
The truth was, his mind was preoccupied more with that scream. It wasn't much that his precious amulet was broken, though it was enough for him to rampage through the streets bloodthirsty for the assailant's head. The question was why that knight was so interested in it... and most of all why that scream? Why was he the only one who seemed to have heard it? He knew his mother's voice well and there was no mistaking in his mind that it was her voice he heard clawing in his head. Just hearing the voice again, the familiar sound of pain... It made his chest heavy with burden.
Heavy with guilt.
"Dante, I'm sure we can fix the amulet...somehow. One thing I learned from you, you always manage to make the impossible become reality." She hoped that would cheer him up a bit.
"Hngh." Well, he was slightly amused. "I always knew you thought of me as perfect."
Trish rolled her eyes in a playful gesture and leaned back onto her pillow, "Shut up and sleep. You have guests tomorrow, remember?"
Dante almost forgot about that. "Wake me up by noon." he grumbled out, and pulled the grey blanket closer, curling up underneath it. A yawn escaped his soft lips as his body started to relax over the tattered cushions. His eyes were extra heavy tonight, and even unconsciously surprised himself on how fast he dozed off. Maybe by tomorrow, the echoes of that scream will fade with the sunrise.
"Noon? Just when are your friends coming anyway?" Trish waited for an answer but all she received was silence. "Dante?" Funny, it usually took him at least half an hour to settle down and drift into sleep. Maybe this night was a bit more overwhelming than she thought. But that was an unexpected welcome for her. Now she could read the diary without worry over being discovered. Though, the pang of guilt was still lodged in the back of her brain, she still had the craving to go on. To absorb as much information as possible. Trish let out a sigh. That stupid guilt was eating a part of her for invading the intimacy of Dante's thoughts, his family's thoughts. So, to alleviate some of the guilt, she decided to avoid reading Dante's entries as much as possible. After all, Sparda was dead, so it wouldn't hurt reading about his thoughts.... right?
you can't destroy me...
".......who's there?...." The world around him concealed itself in darkness.
you can't deny me...
"....who are you?...." His voice quivered by what his heart remembers.
the chains are broken...
"Show yourself!!" Fists clenched and eyes bared with frightened anger.
i can hunt again...
"Who.... What are you talking about?! Who are you?!!" He faltered backwards, one step at a time..
heaven will scream, hell will mourn
"...shut up...." He gripped his ears crushing his lobes, hoping to block out that familiar voice.
mother's prayer stained in blood
"SHUT UP!!!.......... W, wha....?!" A spotlight stained the darkness before him, revealing a scene of a distant memory, a forgotten dream...
"...M..Mother?...." A noblewoman's body, flailing in midair. Her neck without a head, releasing a river of blood. And a sword... That terrifying sword finishing its arc that sliced cleanly through the delicate neck. The holder of that sword was bathed in shadows, faceless and small...
It was a photograph capturing his hell on Earth.
"..oh god........stop it..." He cupped his mouth, feeling his innards squeezing in horror.
you can't deny what you are, what we are
"SHUT UP!!! STOP IT, PLEASE!!!" One by one drops of tears glided down his cheeks.
"My child...." A familiar voice beckoned to him.
"....Mother?" A delicate, pale hand cupped his red cheeks, stroking them tenderly.
"My sweet child..." Droplets fell on the silver hair, on the red cheeks.
"Mother...." He looked up to capture his Mother's expression of love and affection. The one he missed seeing for twenty years. The one that-- "...no..No.......LET ME GO!!!"
The droplets continued its shower over the man, showering him in pure red. The hands feathering his cheeks belonging to a headless woman with a blood overflowing from her neck.
"Dante..." Echoed the familiar voice.
"NOO!!!! STOP IT, PLEASE!!!" His body curled instinctively, his hands clutching his head, "...noo...mommy...."
"Dante..."
Dante.......
"DANTE!"
"WHA--!?!" Dante sat up straight so fast that his forehead collided with Trish's, sending him back down to his pillow and Trish gripping the sofa.
"OW!!" She flung her head back and rubbed her temple furiously, hoping a bruise wasn't starting to develop. "This is the last time I'm being your alarm clock!" Once the initial pain declined, Trish shifted her attention to her partner, and stared at something she never expected to ever see.
His eyes were dilated, wide open, and unmistakably filled with terror. Moisture encased his body, making him shiver from the cool air. The sweat-soaked chest moved up and down in rapid succession.
Trish had never seen such an expression from Dante. "...Dante? Are you alright?..."
He blinked under her voice and his hand lifted to probe his sweat soaked temple. "...Ow..." was all he could say. Dizziness and fatigue wouldn't let him elaborate any more.
Trish couldn't help but grunt from his first morning word, "You had me worried... Is something wrong? You look pale..."
Green eyes closed again, trying to contemplate the images that laced his head just mere seconds ago. "I, I'm fine..." He looked as if he was having a hangover, and a severe one at that.
"It's 3:30 in the afternoon... I tried to wake you earlier but you kept sleeping... I thought you were in a coma for a while..." Crystal blue eyes probed the man on the sofa, observing that his shaking was diminishing. "And the last few minutes, you looked as if you were having a nightmare..."
Nightmare? It was more than a nightmare... It felt all too real and... and as if he lived through it before in another time. "It's nothing." He attempted to sit up again, slowly this time. The palm of his hands felt damp from the sweat. God he felt so dizzy and tired, but it was already passed 3 o'clock and... ".... 3:30?! They'll be here any minute!" Despite the queasiness, Dante managed to jump off the couch and scatter around the room for garments to wear but whatever he did find, they weren't washed recently, "Dammit, aren't there any clean clothes around here?!"
Still rubbing her forehead, Trish sighed and smirked at him, "I told you to clean up the place once in a while." She watched as he went through every t-shirt on the floor, grumbling out curses whenever he found an imperfection. During his frantic search, Trish couldn't help but be somewhat amazed how fashion conscious he was being than normal. Maybe a little suggestion might help, "Why don't you just wear what you always wear?" She lifted his red, long jacket and vest with her lips curling in amusement, "You always look very handsome in it."
Dante looked over his shoulder and lifted an eyebrow. "Why Trish, can you get by one day without flirting with me?" he mused as he walked towards his partner's offer.
"I guess it's in my blood to tease." One by one Trish threw the crimson wardrobe to Dante as he entered the bathroom. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say the new Legendary Dark Knight is trying to impress his long time friends." It was an amusing thought of someone so strong and cocky being easily timid by two normal human beings. She assumed it was a parent-child sort of custom she'd never understand.
Behind a closed door, Dante took care of his dental hygiene and slipped into his regular hunting attire, making sure all his belts were buckled in place and wrinkles in the fabric smoothed out. Next his attention wandered to his hair that was standing up on its ends thanks to sleeping with wet hair. Damping his hands under the cold running water, he manoeuvred his fingers through his platinum hair and styled it to its usual layered-self until he was satisfied with what he saw in the mirror. But he caught the slight bags under his eyes, and weariness on his face. Dreams can have that affect on him.
Shoving the nightmare to the back of his mind, he stepped out of the bathroom, and stuck a pose for Trish to judge, "So, how do I look?"
Trish managed to hold back a laugh, "Like an overly stylish fool who's too cocky for his own good. You look perfect." Dante grunted in response, but liked her answer. For herself, she still wore leather head to toe, her pants hugging her legs tight as ever and the top still managing to barely cling on to her bosom. "So when are they supposed to come?"
"Like, now..." His eyes caught the clock on the table beside the bed. 3:43... "...Maybe there's still time to clean up everything..." All eyes surveyed the room and it looked as if the mess tripled its size. "...or not."
Without thinking, Dante pulled out his black gloves and slipped them on one at a time, but his hands and fingers didn't stop; he instinctively searched for his amulet. He was fidgeting, a result of his...nervousness? Dante, nervous? Trish observed, Is that even possible? "Let's just go wait downstairs... And relax." She walked behind and lightly pushed Dante down the stairs to the office where it still looked like a tornado passed through it, twice.
Knock knock knock
Just as they stepped into the office, someone knocked on the door. "Hn, nice timing." Trish mumbled.
"I'll get it." Dante announced, and proceeded to tend to his clothes and hair one last time before heading towards the door. "You know, so they won't think they have the wrong place." He picked up his handguns from his desk and holstered them under his coat.
Leaning against her desk, Trish tilted her head to the side, "Riiight, it's easy to miss 'Devil Never Cry' in bright red neon lights, the ONLY devil hunting business in town."
"It must be in your blood to be a smart-ass, too." He smirked and turned his attention to the door.
Knock knock knock
Taking a deep, anxious breath, Dante slowly but surely twisted the rusty knob and opened the door.
A man clothed entirely in white, with trench coat, business suit, tie and all stood next to a woman dressed entirely in black leather that screamed 'biker babe'. The man was very tall, taller than Dante, and his pure white hair styled back leaving tufts of hair hanging on his forehead. The refined business suit underneath his coat made him give off an aura of light under the afternoon sun while behind him, a handle of a sword sprouted into view. The woman dressed very much like Dante, down to the gloves and belt. A plain short jacket while her belt held two holders for her twin guns. Her eyes were hidden behind sunglasses and she held what looked like a long, thin black cane without a curved handle. One hand wrapped around the tall man's arm while her long braided hair dangled behind her.
The man was the first to exchange words, "Took you long enough."
"Ivory, Ebony!" Dante's face lighted up with a giant smile like he was a child again. He greeted and hugged the two with open arms, an expression of joy Trish, again, never witnessed before. Dante finally backed away, gesturing his arm in a motion to offer the two visitors to come in.
Trish held her breath. That man... His hair, his face and body build... It was all too familiar to someone she met years ago.
Ivory, his arm still wrapped by Ebony, lead her inside. "It's been too long since we last got together like this," Ebony said as she handed her black staff to her partner, "you haven't forgotten about us already have you?" Ivory held the staff and directed her hand to Dante's, that was held out in front of her with a melancholic expression on his face.
Trish's brow furled in confusion. The way this, Ebony, was moving...
Dante held Ebony's hands in each of his own. Her head didn't move an inch and kept looking straight ahead, her eye-level landing on his chest. Slowly, she trailed her hands up his arms, past his neck to his face. Gently, she touched and stroked his cheeks, feeling his nose, her black glove contrasting with the platinum hair as she ran her fingers through it. Ebony curled her red lips, obviously satisfied with what she felt. "You've grown so handsome, Dante." She balanced herself on her toes and reached up to kiss him on the cheek. Dante's lips curled to a goofy smile, and a bit of colour tainting his cheeks.
This left Trish wide-eyed. There was something definitely wrong with this picture.
"You don't look a day older the last time I saw you Ebony. And you still look like you're a corporate tycoon, Ivory." Dante remarked.
"And you still look like a punk." Ivory retorted with affection. His blue eyes wandered around room filled with demon heads, each held by a sword. "Demon heads?"
"It's a little hobby of mine..."
Ebony's smiled turned to a frown, "Heads?..." It was for just a moment, but she held a worried look on her face, obviously not liking the "unique" decoration style. Just as she was about to nag Dante on taste, her head shifted to the right, straight at Trish. "Aren't you going to introduce us to your friend?"
Trish froze. Dante took Ebony by the hand and lead both the visitors to his blonde partner while manoeuvring around the garbage on the floor at the same time. Trish stared at the woman whose gaze still didn't falter. Dante kept her close by as he walked as if she'd get lost if she were left alone. The walking, the cane, the way Ebony stroke Dante's face as if tracing an outline of an object...
Trish could come to just one conclusion. She's blind... Something Dante has neglected to mention.
All three approached the blonde and Dante gestured to her, "This is my new partner, Trish." She extended her hand out to the two, first shaking hands with Ivory, then with Ebony. "Trish, this is Ivory and Ebony."
"Pleasure to meet you both." Trish felt a bit awkward with the two. There was an aura of uneasiness she just couldn't identify.
Ivory cocked his head back, "...You're a full devil aren't you?"
"The one from Mallet Island." Ebony added casually.
Dante and Trish blinked in surprise. Neither one of them told anyone else about that incident, or about Trish's background.
"Don't be so shocked." Ivory smiled, "Every devil hunter and demon knows about what you two did. The Underworld hasn't stopped gossiping about it."
Ebony, still beside Dante, patted her former protege on the cheek, "It seems you've developed quite a reputation, kid."
Everyone but Dante smiled at his nickname. "Ebony, I'm not a kid anymore... And you promised not to call me that." Dante whined.
"Old habits die hard, kid." Ebony let out her hand and instinctively Ivory placed the cane's handle in her palm. The cane seemed much too thin to support anyone's weight, even someone as short as Ebony. Lightly she tapped the ground around her, hitting pizza boxes, bottles and whatever lurked the floor, "I see your room habits haven't changed either."
Ivory walked around the room, observing the still-bleeding heads and posters littering the walls. As he approached Dante's desk, a large poster of a woman bearing her large, round breasts with only two small stars covering her smaller round flesh caught his eye. He turned to Dante, to the poster and back to Dante.
Trish helped Ebony settle into her desk seat, while Dante caught Ivory pointing to his poster. Ivory was about to open his mouth when Dante lifted a finger over his own lips and mouthed, she doesn't have to know! The man in white shook his head with a grin. Some things really don't change... he thought.
"Ok besides coming to nag at me, what brings you guys to town?" Dante, along with Trish, settled on her desk while Ivory still wandered around the room.
Ebony brushed a hair behind an ear, and adjusted her sunglasses, "Business and pleasure. We wanted to visit you on a less troubled manner but... We're on a hunt and your name popped up, kid."
"Dante?" Forgetting her uneasiness, Trish focused her attention on the matter at hand, "What about him?"
"Someone is after him." Ivory answered from the back of the room, facing the wall of hanging swords and various guns on shelves. He noticed a dust of shimmer on the weapons and splinters of glittering rock. It looked as if something was shattered there... With his back turned, it exposed his massive sword hanging on his back, much longer than Alastor. "A source of mine reported a, 'black knight' heading towards this city. From the description, it sounds like he could be a General rank."
Dante tilted his head back. He already knew who they were talking about, "Let me guess, he has a glowing red lance?"
"You've seen him?" Ebony, now worried, faced directly towards Dante's voice.
"We've met him last night, " Trish added, "but he escaped before we could do much damage."
Ebony stretched out a hand and Dante immediately held it in his, "He didn't hurt you did he?..." She sounded like a mother concerned for her child.
"Just a scratch." Dante replied in his usual confident manner.
Trish rolled her eyes. He looked too beaten up to call it just a 'scratch.' "Any word why this knight is looking for Dante?"
"Apparently," Ivory finally joined the three, taking his giant broadsword from his back and setting it beside him as he leaned on Trish's desk, "the black knight is in search of Sparda."
The two owners of Devil Never Cry had mixed reactions. Trish 's eyes widened while Dante grumbled under his breath, "Everyone knows my old man's dead."
"That's where your reputation comes into play." Ebony added. "Since you defeated Mundus, the Underworld's been labelling you 'Legendary Dark Knight'... So this black knight of ours may by calling you, Sparda."
"Or at least see you as Sparda-incarnate." Ivory sat down beside Dante. "Whatever the reason, we're not about to let him lay a hand on you while we're here."
Dante looked quite surprise by this offer of protection. He didn't exactly like the idea of being looked after like a helpless child. "I appreciate your concern, but I'm well adept in taking care of my self."
Noting his irritation, Ebony walked up to Dante and laid her hand on his cheek, "I know you are... But you should remember that it's my job to worry over you. You always rush into things without thinking ahead; I'm surprised you weren't severely wounded in your meeting with that knight."
Trish tried to hold back a smile, "Actually, he was--" Dante shot a deathly glare at his partner, the same look he always made when he wanted her to keep her mouth shut. Trish just shrugged back at him. Obviously, she was enjoying seeing this side of the 'Legendary' Dante powerless before his foster parents.
Ebony smirked by the sudden change she felt on his face. She knew when he was covering his injuries under his cool demeanour. "Dante, is there a place we can talk in private?"
Dante didn't expect that so soon, "Uh, sure. Upstairs." His eyes shifted from Trish to Ivory, then back to Trish, "I'll let you guys can get better acquainted." He slid off the desk, taking Ebony by the hand and leading her to the stairs.
Before they disappeared around the corridor, Ebony turned and bowed her head slightly to Trish's direction, "Sorry to leave abruptly... Trish, was it?"
"I don't mind..." And Trish watched both walk upstairs. Now it was just she and the tall, robust man sitting next to her. Obviously he was taller than Dante, more muscular too... just like him. He looked strong, but was so gentle and quiet at the same time. The resemblance was uncanny; come to think of it, he looked much like Dante as well... Yet, that back taste of uneasiness was still stirring within Trish and didn't realize she was staring right at him.
Ivory raised an eyebrow, "Do I have something on my face?"
Trish snapped out of her gaze, "No, sorry... You just... remind me of someone..." The look, the sword, it was like she was facing Virgil again. "So..." she started, "How long have you known Dante?"
He contemplated the question while scratching his neck with pale fingers, "Since he was six years old... He was a boastful kid then, and he still is now. But we're probably at fault for that." Ivory smiled quietly, old memories flowing back to him in a wave.
"Maybe you could tell me about his childhood sometime. I'm sure Dante would approve." She almost giggled at the thought. What she could use with that kind of information to blackmail Dante to do favours for her.
Settling herself down, her thoughts changed to Ebony. "Not trying to be rude but, is Ebony..."
"Blind?" Ivory finished for her, "She was... assaulted once, years ago. Her eyes were damaged but thankfully the attack wasn't deep enough to penetrate through the skull." He stared down at the floor, thinking of how serious the injury could have been, "She can detect extremely bright lights, but other than that, she is blind."
"Oh..." Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to talk about that topic. "I'm sorry I brought it up..."
Ivory looked up at her, smiling with warmth, "It's alright. She's learned ways to compensate for her blindness. I'd say the injury made her even more deadly. Her aims are still on target." He slipped off the desk and sat in the chair Ebony used, "So, you are a full devil?"
Trish nodded. He didn't sound like he was phased by the idea at all.
"If all devils were as attractive as you are, I doubt any hunters would be able kill such beauty." He ended with a slight nod of his head. "Dante has chosen a very lovely woman as his partner."
Slight warmth brewed in her cheeks. If Dante was to see her now, he would tease her every chance he got. For what could be the first time, Trish was actually blushing.
"Well, I can finally say I've witnessed a devil blush." Suddenly, his smile disappeared, "Concerning the black knight..."
Trish nodded in response, still trying to hide her flushed cheeks.
"Ebony didn't want to mention it... in front of Dante. About Sparda."
"What about him?" She had an ominous feeling it would be troubled news.
Ivory lowered his voice and leaned forward, as if to make sure the information falls only on the blonde's ears. "Rumours, unexpected rumours, are floating around the Underworld and among demons living in the Upperworld." His blue eyes narrowed, "There are some who say they witnessed seeing him but..."
"'Him'? Who do you..." Then it clicked. Her own blue eyes widened at the prospect.
Observing her expression, Ivory knew whom she was thinking of the same person. "Sparda may be alive."
Well, I should tell you guys, I'm more an artist than writer and I try to draw most of my free time (I even managed to draw Ebony :) if you'd like to see it, it's on my site --obvious selfish promotion--). Heck, I was thinking of making this in comic style rather than as fanfic. Also, I can barely stay on the computer long enough to finish a couple of paragraphs. So to keep the fic coming out somewhat faster, I'll probably leave the editing to when I have sufficient time to do so, so that means I'll be posting half-assed works. BTW, I've changed the rating to PG-13, mainly cause it wasn't turning out as violent as I expected (yet...?) and FF.net seems to list fics rated G-PG13 as a default list for a category now.... annoying :( If you think it should still be rated R, please inform me by reviews.
Little tidbit: "Il trillo del Diavolo" translates to "The Devil's Trill", composed by Giuseppe Tartini. Fantastic piece of violin music to listen to :)